


The Gentle Savagery Of Women

by Witch_of_Effective_eternity



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_of_Effective_eternity/pseuds/Witch_of_Effective_eternity





	The Gentle Savagery Of Women

She had cared for her. Held her hand while the lady drifted through listless sleep. The gentlewoman had heard things no other denizen of Scotland had borne witness to. Honestly, sometimes the lady scared her, especially when she was muttering about blood, eyes glazed as she lived through past murderous deeds. But now the gentlewoman felt like she couldn’t turn back, like she was tied to the beautiful despot. She was implicated into her deeds by being an audience, for feeling pity, maybe even love for this monster.  
She could see her mistress’s end approaching, as fated and inevitable as the events that had led her to the throne. Each day the lady’s ramblings became more removed from present occurrences. She no longer slept, only wandered the halls of this cursed castle, and no amount of devotion could bring back her lucidity. Her mind was rotting, like the country itself.

And yet the maid was trapped, not just by her duty to an unjust crown but the lady’s own insistence. Given to her when the gentle lady had leant close and whispered into her ear in the early hours of the morning. The words that had fallen from her lips had taken the servant prisoner and cursed her soul. A rare amount of presence of mind had entered her lady’s voice as she begged her to stay, for her not to leave because was she was her only light left. For that thick syrupy voice, it was not hard for the gentlewoman to imagine laying out the seeds of treason for that voice. Dripping with dark ichor, it was a voice that could make men kneel. And she a mere servant, she was no different, she could not say no to her mistress.

And so, the gentlewoman she was tied to the lady, by blood, by duty, by hope long extinguished. Yet the sting of death was acquiesced, for the gentlewomen knew it could not hold them apart. Fate cannot be stoppered or battled but it can be bargained with.

If Lady Macbeth were to follow her king into the darkest depths of hell, so would the servant follow her queen. The gentlewoman may not able to save a damned woman from the blood of her past, she might not have been able to provide hope, be the light her love needed. But she could fill out her legacy, give up this heart, bloody these innocent hands, that was the least she could do for her queen. Who she remembers had beautiful hands, had wondrous quick hands. Their sinfulness, the gentlewoman would easily excuse, hearing and experiencing all the lady’s wickedness was not something this poor denizen would ever regret. If the lady could not forgive her own deeds then she would forgive instead. As a matter of fact, she would do more than that, she would exult in them.

So, the gentlewoman took her knife in hand. The lady’s knife, the one she had kept under her bed. She sidled up to the unpracticed king, lived with him in his chambers for a stretch of time. He never suspected her, as innocent of a face as she was. Akin to what she had learned from her lady, a charming face, an innocent demeanor, that was the best place to hide secrets and murderous intentions. Macbeth never suspected her intentions until the knife slipped through his ribs. So, let Scotland be wracked again let it fall as she had. Sin will only lead to sin, blood will give nothing but blood and the damned and the innocent will fall together.


End file.
